


Covered in Bees

by Lynds



Category: Eddie Izzard - Standup Routines, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anaphylaxis, Angst, Aromantic, Asexuality, Demisexuality, Eddie Izzard references, Fluff, Grey-A, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, POV Arthur, POV Merlin, Pansexual Character, Queerplatonic Relationships, So Many Eddie Izzard References, Use of Adrenaline/Epipens, bee allergy, bee stings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-14 05:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: "There I was, making a fool of myself in front of this gorgeous blonde bloke who runs the garden centre, quoting Eddie Izzard to him. He didn't get it, the pleb. And then suddenly, I really was covered in bees!""I told you, Merlin, it was justonebee.""Yeah, well, that's all I need to send me into a massive anaphylactic shock, isn't it?"





	1. I'm Covered In Bees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mari_Knickerbocker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Knickerbocker/gifts).



> I'm so excited! It's my birthday AND I got a bee tattoo today AND I'm writing about Eddie Izzard AND it's my second Fandom Trumps Hate story, for the lovely Court (Mariknickerbocker)!
> 
> The idea of Merlin quoting Eddie Izzard to Arthur, who doesn't know what he's on about, has been in my head for nearly a year, but there was always something missing. So when Court prompted one of the boys getting stung by a bee and having an allergic reaction, I just couldn't resist. I hope those of you who don't know Eddie's work aren't put off. Arthur doesn't know who he is either. If you want a bit of a taster, [here's a clip on youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xs-tl6GBOBo). If you don't, just know he's very, very random.
> 
> I'll be uploading every 3 days - I really hope you guys like it!

“Why do you want to go to a garden centre, Gwaine?” Merlin hissed as they walked up to the building. It looked like a cross between a greenhouse and a shop, and altogether way too hot for late spring. Merlin’s face was already flushed and clammy. “We don’t even have a garden.”

“I could get a house plant.”

Merlin stopped and crossed his arms, giving Gwaine a flat look when he turned around.

“Oh, all right. Fine then. There’s this guy.” Merlin rolled his eyes and Gwaine tugged on his hair. “Well. There might be a _couple_ of guys. And a girl. Oh, come on, Merlin, these cats are _hot_. It’s like they only employ models! This one guy, Percy, he’s got muscles on him that don’t even fit in a shirt, yeah? And the other one I’ve got my eye on, Mordred, he’s even cuter than you are - no offence - with all this curly hair, ugh! And Freya! She’s teeny and fierce and OK, she might be a lesbian, I’m getting that vibe off her, but she might not be. And even if she is, life’s just better with beauty in it, you know?”

Merlin kept up the flat stare and didn’t even let his lips twitch with amusement. He had a lot of practice with Gwaine.

Gwaine gave a very dramatic sigh, his arms flopping around and his head thrown back with another _ugh_. “Come _on_ , Merls. Trust me!” He put his hands on Merlin’s shoulders and gave him a little shake. “I’m worried about you, man. When was the last time you had a boyfriend? That little fling with Elyan back in uni? You’re gonna get blue balls. Look, I’m really good at sharing, you know I am, come along and flirt a little, see the pretty people - hey, just see the pretty flowers if you’re not interested.”

Merlin did the Gaius Eyebrow Lift at Gwaine. “Don’t you go worrying about the state of my balls, Gwaine, they’ll be fine without you.”

“Right, so you say,” he said, patting him.

“Just because you can’t imagine going more than a week without sex—“

“Hey, I’ll have you know I abstained for nearly a month back in January.”

“That was eighteen days, Gwaine.”

“Like I said, nearly a month.”

Merlin couldn’t help laughing and Gwaine grinned and slung his arm around his shoulder, pulling him towards the garden centre. “You won’t try and set me up, will you?” he said quietly, casting a glance at his friend.

Gwaine stopped and looked at him properly. “No, I promise.” He hugged him tight. “I’m sorry, Merls, I was being silly.”

“I mean, because I know you guys don’t think I’m weird, but other people might. And I’m really quite fine with the people I’ve got. You know?”

“Of course they won’t think you’re weird. Do you think I’m weird because I _like_ lots of sex?”

Merlin shrugged and smirked at him. “I think you’re weird, but that’s not the reason.”

Gwaine laughed and pulled him into another half hug as they walked through the door. “That’s the spirit. Let’s go look at pretty things!”

Merlin regretted it almost the moment they walked through the door. The roof was partly translucent, and it turned the shop into an actual greenhouse. He gulped the humid air and felt the blood rise to his cheeks, sweat already prickling between his shoulder blades. “You had better appreciate this, Gwaine,” he hissed, pushing his long sleeves up past his elbows.

Gwaine just snickered. “You have the worst hypothalamus of any human I know.”

“Oh, well, glad to hear there are some… I don’t know, dogs in your life with a worse regulatory region than mine.”

Gwaine burst out into really quite adorable giggles. “Small yappy type dogs,” he gulped.

Merlin slapped his hand over his mouth as he cackled way too loudly. “You really enjoyed that last night, didn’t you?”

“How have I never seen Eddie Izzard’s stand-up before? He’s exactly my type of surreal humour.”

“And now I’ve converted you, you’ll be one of us forever. You have no idea how much power I have over you, Gwaine. All I have to do now is quote Eddie Izzard and you’ll collapse. Like… ‘action transvestite’”

Gwaine doubled over giggling. “Dyslexia was made up by Nazis to piss off kids with dyslexia.”

“That’s just true,” cackled Merlin.

“Excuse me,” said a rather confused boy. “Can I help you?”

Gwaine stood up and wiped tears out of his eyes. “Mordred!” Then he bent over giggling again.

“Excuse him,” grinned Merlin. “He’s only just been introduced to Eddie Izzard.”

Mordred’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I love him. ‘Je suis le President de Burundi!’”

Merlin clapped his hands and jumped up and down. “Yes yes! ‘Le singe est sur la branche!’”

Gwaine straightened up and Merlin wouldn’t have been surprised if his eyes had turned into actual hearts. “You have such good taste,” he said dreamily.

Merlin rolled his eyes as Mordred blushed and tried to hide behind his mass of curls. “I’m gonna go look at… uh, roses or something.”

Gwaine didn’t hear. He was wiping some nonexistent speck of mud off Mordred’s cheek. Merlin rolled his eyes again, it was a wonder they didn’t fall out when he was around Gwaine. On the plus side, he actually had an excuse to get out of this sauna masquerading as a shop.

The difference was immediate, and Merlin took a deep breath of flower scented air as the breeze ruffled his hair. The outside area was beautifully designed. Even a complete non-gardener like Merlin could see that. A wall of uneven grey stone enclosed the space into a courtyard, lined with young fruit trees in pots, filled with rows of tables covered in potted plants. An archway was cut into the wall on the left, and Merlin peered through it, wondering if he was stepping into some other world. Unfortunately, it was just the storage area for bags of compost and gravel. Who knew there were so many different varieties of compost? Merlin had always thought it was just horse poo.

The sound of running water drew him to the back of the courtyard, brushing along a bunch of fluffy leaves labelled ‘lambs ears’, and into a herb section which reminded him of his uncle Gaius’ kitchen, the smell of basil, sage, rosemary and oregano rich in his nose. He wondered if they had - ha! He leaned over the table of pots to the mint section, sliding his bag off his shoulder and onto the floor, tucking it out of the way in front of his feet. Peppermint, spearmint, and there, just a couple of pots, chocolate mint. He grinned as he remembered Gaius coming home with the oddest plants he could find, just about keeping them alive in his little attic flat. He glanced around, then pinched off a leaf and stuck it on his tongue. He grinned as the flavour flooded his mouth. Maybe he should get his own After Eights plant. He probably wouldn’t kill it… too quickly. And it was only a couple of quid. 

He was reaching in again to lift out one of the black plastic pots when a low humming buzz sounded in his ear. He yelped and jumped backwards, flapping about his head violently, stumbling away. Of course he crashed into the table behind him. Of course he knocked into a man coming around the corner. Of course he was the most gorgeous person Merlin had ever seen.

“Oi!” yelled the man, stumbling backwards and balancing the stack of pansies. “What are you playing at?”

“Sorry,” said Merlin breathlessly. He wasn’t sure which was more distracting, the stripey murder-bug in following him around or the man’s golden hair glinting in the sun, the blue eyes the colour of a summer sky, the little frown line between his eyebrows, the slightly crooked nose… OK the man was more distracting. “Umm. I’m uh… I’m covered in bees!”

The man stared at him. He was not laughing. Merlin felt hysterical giggles swelling up in his throat and tried to stamp them down. He was obviously no longer among Izzard fans.

“It’s only one bee.”

“It’s… uh, it’s a quote.”

“Stop flapping, you’ll make it worse.”

“What? How will that make it worse, surely it’ll go away rather than get hit by flailing limbs!”

“No, if you stay still it’ll be able to tell you’re not a flower and go away.”

“How can it be confused? How many flowers actually flap around like this?”

“It depends how much wind there is, I don’t know. Just stay still!”

Merlin pursed his lips and froze, glaring at the man. “Fine, but if I get stung--”

“You’re not going to get stung,” he said, rolling his eyes and hoisting the flowers again. “Look, see? It’s going. You’re fine. The tiny, terrifying insect has left you alone.”

“It’s all very well for you to say,” Merlin grumbled. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m, uh, sorry for nearly knocking you over.”

“No harm done,” he said, and turned down one of the aisles in obvious dismissal.

Merlin had never been very good at taking hints. “I’m Merlin,” he said, following him and sticking out his hand. “Oh, you can’t…”

He just raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at the armful of flowers. “Arthur Pendragon,” he said anyway, and stopped by a long table under a portico, weighed down by tray after tray of bright blues and purples. 

“Oh! Like the name on the front of the building,” grinned Merlin.

“Yes,” said Arthur, deadpan. “Because I own it.”

“I always knew it had nothing to do with that big investment bank.”

Arthur’s cheeks twitched and he glanced slyly at Merlin. “It does, actually. My dad runs the bank.”

“No way!”

“Yep.”

“Wow,” Merlin said, looking around again as if it made the place look different. “What, is it a family tradition to just slap your name on everything you own?”

Arthur barked out a sudden laugh, his head thrown back and his eyes crinkled up. Merlin felt a little pull under his ribcage and couldn’t stop his own smile widening. “You’re a cheeky little shit, Merlin.”

Merlin gave a fake gasp. “Is that how you speak to all your customers?”

“Only the ones that steal the chocolate mint leaves,” he said, raising his eyebrows at him.

Merlin scuffed his hair. “You saw that, did you?”

“I did.”

“Well,” he shrugged. “I couldn’t resist.” He leaned back against the table behind him, stroking his fingers over a display of chunky primula of all sorts of garish colours. “My uncle used to -- OW!” 

He leaped up and clutched at his arm, panic rising in him as he saw the thorn-like stinger still embedded in the skin. There was already a red, swollen area around it, and his heart beat faster and faster, like it was about to thunder out of his chest and run screaming around the courtyard by itself. “Shit! Shit shit shit.”

“Come here, you big baby, it’s just a bee sting.” Arthur grabbed his wrist and pulled it towards him, bending over his forearm and fishing something out of his pocket. “I’ll scrape the stinger off and take you inside to put some antihistamine cream on it. I must’ve been stung at least three times this month.”

“No, I need…” he pulled at his arm, but Arthur just clutched harder. It did nothing for the rising panic. “I need to…” He wasn’t thinking straight, couldn’t get the words out. The git just needed to let him go so he could reach his… “Fuck! Fuck, where’s my bag?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, let me get this.”

“Are you going to cut it off? What the hell are you doing?”

Arthur glanced up at him and rolled his eyes, then used the blunt end of his knife to scrape the stinger out. It didn’t make it stop hurting. In fact, his fingers were starting to tingle already, and he knew he was going to have to get sorted quickly or he wouldn’t be able to hold the pen. “My bag…” he kept patting his hips like the bloody thing would have shrunk and been put into his pocket.

“Where did you leave it?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. Where’s Gwaine? I need him.”

“Calm down, it’s just a little bee sting.”

His chest felt like it was being squeezed, which made his heart beat faster, which made his chest feel even tighter. He shook his fingers, trying to get some feeling into them. “I need my bag.”

“I’ll help you find it, come on,” said Arthur, chuckling. Merlin barely heard him. He couldn’t think straight, he was panicking too much. Where had they just been? He had to retrace his steps, quickly. 

He stepped forward, stumbling slightly. “Are you OK?” frowned Arthur, his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin forced another breath into his lungs. They felt so small. Arthur’s eyes slowly widened. “Shit. You’re not… are you allergic to bee stings?”

“I need my bag,” he mumbled, pushing Arthur off. He’d been… chocolate mint! That’s where he’d been! Where the hell was the mint?

“Fuck!” Arthur hissed under his breath. “No, you stay there. What’s in your bag, have you got some medicine?”

“Epipen.”

“Fuck, we need your bag.”

Merlin heaved another breath. “By the mint.”

Arthur sprinted off between the tables and Merlin closed his eyes. He’d find it faster. Or would he? What if Arthur didn’t see it? Had he knocked it under the table? He didn’t think it was possible for his heart to beat so hard. Stop thinking! He forced himself to concentrate on the thin breaths he could squeeze into his lungs. They were starting to squeak now, as the air whistled through the constricted airways. 

He felt a light slap on his cheek and forced his eyes open. “Stay awake, idiot,” snapped Arthur. “Where’s the epipen?”

“Front pocket,” he croaked, then heaved in another breath like it had exhausted him just to say two little words.

Arthur crouched down at Merlin’s feet, fiddling with the clasps on his leather bag, muttering under his breath. He couldn’t hear a word. Suddenly Arthur yelled ‘ha!’ and stood up, the plastic bag with Merlin’s salvation clutched in his hand. He reached for it, but his fingers, still tingling like they had vicious pins and needles, couldn’t grasp properly. He was pretty sure he whimpered then, and vaguely thought, under the all consuming panic, that he was pathetic.

Arthur must have realised he was in no state to help himself. He started pulling the bag open, muttering ‘shit, shit, shit,’ under his breath. “Do I have to sterilise my hands first?” he asked, dirty fingernails held up way too close to Merlin’s face.

“No,” he said, pushing his hand away. “Just _do_ it, Clotpole.”

“Don’t joke when you’re dying, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur snarked back, but there might have been a slight note of hysteria in his voice. Merlin wasn’t sure, he was too busy paying for all the words he’d said, and his head was spinning. Arthur got an epipen out of the box, shaking fingers reading over the instructions on the side. “Right, got it. Stay still,” he snapped, as if Merlin had been planning on dancing the fucking Nutcracker Suite right there. He pulled off the blue cap and stabbed the end into Merlin’s thigh hard enough to bruise.

“Ow!” He tried to yell, but it came out more as a breathy wheeze.

“Sorry,” muttered Arthur. He snorted. “My best reference for this is Pulp Fiction. How long’s it been?”

“I wasn’t timing,” Merlin grunted, but he was already starting to feel better as the adrenaline flooded his system. He leaned his head back on the pillar and closed his eyes. Had breathing ever felt so damn good? He definitely hadn’t appreciated it enough before. Oxygen was _amazing_.

“Right,” said Arthur. He counted up to ten, then pulled the pen away, anxious eyes flickering over Merlin as if he was going to get worse again just because he’d moved. “Is… is that it then? You OK?”

Merlin shook his head. “I’ve got to go to A&E now,” he sighed. “The adrenaline only lasts fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“What?” Arthur squeaked, and Merlin would have laughed at the high pitch if he wasn’t exhausted and to be honest, still quite stressed out. “You mean you can relapse in the next fifteen minutes?”

Merlin shrugged. “I could ‘relapse’ any time in the next eight hours. I need Gwaine.”

Arthur already had his phone out, calling an ambulance. “Oh, don’t do that,” Merlin groaned. “I’ll just get Gwaine to drive me.”

“And if you get stuck in traffic?” he snapped. “Shut up, Merlin.”

As rude as he was, there was something strangely comforting about being snapped at by a beautiful golden man. Merlin smiled, leaned his head back on the pillar again, and left Arthur to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chocolate mint is a thing! As is pineapple mint, which is actually even better!


	2. The Death Star Canteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FLUFFYYYYYYY!!! I might have been slightly hysterical writing this, I blame the amount of Eddie Izzard I watched to help get me in the mood lol

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” said Merlin, blinking over at Arthur. “I’ve texted Gwaine, he’ll be here in a minute, I’m sure.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur sneered. Sheesh, his voice was posh. “Someone’s obviously got to keep an eye on you or you’ll expire from a sting you got a full hour ago.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “It’s called a biphasic reaction, Clotpole.” Arthur made an inelegant sound at the insult. “Sometimes you get two or more anaphylactic shocks for the price of one.”

“Well, aren’t you a bargain hunter?”

He snorted and regretted it. The headache was settling in for the long haul now, on the come-down from two doses of adrenaline. His hands were shaking so bad he could barely press the bridge of his nose. 

“Hey.” Arthur’s voice was a lot softer. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Just been a while. I’m good at avoiding bees. I guess I got complacent.”

“I’ve got to be honest, a garden centre doesn’t seem like the best place for someone with a severe bee allergy.”

“I was being a good friend. Like a wingman!” He giggled. “The bee was a good wingman.”

Arthur pursed his lips to stop from laughing, but Merlin could see the humour in his eyes anyway. “Are you allowed coffee? I think there’s a cafeteria in the in-patients ward.”

Merlin groaned. “I don’t care whether I’m allowed or not, if you get me coffee I’m your servant ‘til the day I die.”

“Good grief, you’re dramatic. How do you take it then?”

Merlin sniggered to himself, thinking of Gwaine and Mordred and last night’s Eddie Izzard binge. “I like my coffee like I like my women, hot and strong, and in a plastic cup.” He curled over, clutching his stomach and giggling to himself.

Arthur looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “Well, I prefer men, so that counts me out. But do you like your women with milk and sugar?”

Merlin’s brain turned itself off and back on again. He blinked at Arthur. “Oh no… it’s… I was quoting. I don’t… I like them too. Men! Men like. Ugh!” He took a deep breath. “I’m gay. The coffee thing is a quote. Fuck.” He buried his face in his hands. “Leave me to die, please.”

Arthur chuckled, and it was disgustingly warm and deep and lovely and Merlin wanted to turn into some sort of non-Newtonian fluid and slither off the bed, through the ceiling and into the basement to live in the rest of his worthless, embarrassing life as a troglodytic goo creature. “I’ll… see what I can do, OK?” said Arthur, sounding a bit flustered. And he was gone. Merlin slumped back against the pillows and draped his forearm over his eyes. His head throbbed even harder with the amount of blood that had rushed to his face. Logically he knew he was still feeling the effects of the adrenaline and the anaphylaxis and the anxiety that always came with both for him, but it really did feel like the world was coming to an end because he’d made an epic fool of himself. This was yet another reason he should never be allowed to meet new people.

He was genuinely surprised when Arthur returned, four cups in hand. He’d convinced himself he’d scared his beautiful new friend off by being… well, Merlin. “Hi,” he breathed, and _maybe_ his eyes didn’t turn into little cartoon hearts, but it was a long shot, because Arthur’s hair was all flopping into his eyes and he was frowning in concentration as he balanced the cups.

“Hello. So I was expecting to be able to take little sachets of milk and sugar away with me, but no, you have to add it all there. And because I still don’t know how you take your coffee, or your women _or_ your men, I bought black, black with one sugar, white with no sugar and white with one. What would you like? Do you think the nurses would like the extras?”

That was it. Merlin was a complete gonner. He’d tripped and fallen right on his face at the feet of this sarcastic bastard with a giant heart. And yes, he was emotional right now and probably suffering from some sort of damsel syndrome but he had to bite his lips to stop himself blurting out how much he _loved_ Arthur right now. Loved him. Like he wanted to curl up on a sofa and spend the rest of the week with their feet tangled together and bury his nose in that golden hair and fall asleep with the scent of him surrounding him like a blanket and _oh fuck_ what the hell was wrong with him? Love at first sight was not a thing. He was not Anna from Frozen. 

He frowned to the side. He really needed to stop letting Gwen ‘Disney Princess’ Smith make all the choices for movie night.

“Merlin? Are you OK?”

He blinked up at him. Nope. Not OK. Still actually in love. Shit. “White with no sugar please,” he said, and it came out a little bit like ‘yes, I’ll marry you’, which was a problem.

Luckily, Arthur didn’t seem to notice his little predicament. He handed him a paper cup of… surprisingly not too awful coffee, kept the sweet black coffee for himself and popped out to the nurse’s station to see if anyone wanted the other two cups. Merlin was pretty sure he managed to keep the heart eyes to a minimum as the nurses patted him and inhaled their coffee.

Arthur sat back down and propped his boots up on a crossbar under Merlin’s bed, handing him a Kit Kat and a packet of crisps. Merlin took them with a goofy grin. “The Death Star canteen was well stocked, then?”

Arthur frowned at him and Merlin blushed. It was becoming ridiculous. The more he made a fool of himself referencing things Arthur hadn’t heard of the more he seemed to want to _keep referencing them_. “Uh. Eddie Izzard again. Sorry.”

“What is this Eddie Izzard thing?”

A grin spread across his face and he snatched his phone up, opening YouTube and typing in [Death Star canteen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sv5iEK-IEzw). “You have to watch it to understand it.”

Arthur leaned forwards, raising his eyebrow at the Lego characters some genius had used to animate Izzard’s stand-up. Merlin was almost squirming with glee, not sure whether to watch Arthur’s face or the video. He was giggling by the time Darth Vader said “this is not a game of who the fuck are you,” and the more Arthur blinked at him in confusion, the more he giggled. By the time the video was over, Arthur was laughing too, but he was laughing at Merlin.

“You’re completely mad,” he said, his smile wide and dimpled, showing off a couple of slightly crooked teeth. Merlin wanted to melt, wanted to fall into his warm blue eyes and use every worn out cliche in the book.

“Have you heard from your friend yet, love?” asked one of the nurses, startling Merlin so hard he dropped his phone.

Merlin checked his screen and shook his head. “Uh, no. Sorry. I’m sure I’ll be fine getting home myself, I’ll get a taxi.”

She shook her head. “You need someone with you for the next eight hours minimum.” She turned to Arthur with a brazenness Merlin could never have pulled off. “I don’t suppose you could look after your friend for a few hours?” She rested her fists on her hips.

“What? Oh, I… of course. I thought he had to stay overnight or something, I was just keeping him company here.”

She smiled and Merlin tried not to look like his face was on fire. “No, he’s safe to go home as long as you’re looking after him.”

“You don’t have to…”

“The lady says I do,” said Arthur, a little smugly. “Come on, Merlin, I’ll get us a taxi.”

With the usual hospital debriefing ringing in his ears (along with the persistent headache) Merlin followed Arthur out to the car park. “How are you feeling?” he asked as they settled into the back seat and gave the driver Merlin’s address.

“Tired,” he said. “My head hurts. My anxiety’s still spiking. But that’s all normal.”

Arthur nodded and held up his phone. “I’ve been researching the effects of adrenaline and what to look out for in a biphasic attack. I think what we’ll do is you kip on the sofa and I’ll mainline coffee and watch telly to make sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re extremely bossy?” Merlin said, gaping at him.

“Regularly. But then I am a boss, so it’s ok.”

He laughed. “Look, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine, I’m sure Gwaine will be home soon, and he can watch me.”

Arthur snorted, his Roman nose crinkling up in a sneer. “Like I’m going to trust someone who doesn’t answer his phone to his anaphylactic best friend? I don’t think so.”

Merlin laid his head back on the head rest. He should tell him about how Gwaine was a lot better than that. He was a good friend and he’d never leave Merlin unless something had happened to his phone. But he was too busy glowing in Arthur’s overprotective aura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I know it's called a biphasic reaction but the impression I got from my google-fu was that it could be MORE than two shock episodes? If I'm wrong please let me know and I'll change it! Most of the sites said 'more than one' but I know bi means 2 so...


	3. Do You Have A Flag?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur helps Merlin home

Merlin was practically asleep walking up the stairs to his flat. Arthur glanced over to him and pulled Merlin’s arm over his shoulder, his own hand going under Merlin’s ribs. He couldn’t resist leaning his head against Arthur’s, closing his eyes to stagger up the last couple of stairs. “You’re exhausted,” murmured Arthur, his voice soft and rumbling in his chest. Merlin could feel the slightest vibrations against his cheekbones. 

He wondered if he could keep him.

He managed to get himself upright, scrabbling in his jeans pocket for his key, and pushed into the hallway. “Want a cup of tea?” he said, and his voice only slurred a little bit.

“Merlin! Where the hell have you been?”

Merlin blinked up at Gwaine. His eyes were wide with panic, his hair even more wild than usual. “He’s been in A&E,” said Arthur. His voice was a lot colder than it had been in the stairwell.

“What? Fuck! Merlin, I’m so sorry. My bloody phone… I dropped it in a water feature at the garden centre and Percival tried to dry it out for me, but it’s shagged, mate.”

“That’s why I couldn’t get hold of you.” He turned to Arthur. “I knew there’d be a reason.”

“He was trying to ring you,” Arthur said, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Gwaine ignored him, holding Merlin by his shoulders. “Are you OK? What happened?”

“Bee,” said Merlin with a sheepish half smile.

“Why the hell did you bring someone with a bee allergy to a garden centre?” 

Gwaine blinked at him. “You’re… it’s that bad?” He looked like someone had kicked him in the guts. “Merlin… I thought you were just… I thought, like, you’d come out in hives or something. I’m so sorry. Oh God, I could have killed you.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” he said, pulling Gwaine into a hug. Gwaine wrapped his arms around Merlin’s ribs. “Too tight!” he gasped. 

“Fuck!”

“S’okay. Just… I’ve just had a pretty big reminder of how awesome breathing is, you know?”

Gwaine looked even more distraught. “Mate, I’m so sorry.”

Merlin laughed and hugged him again to make a point. “It’s not your fault.”

“You know I love you, Merls,” he said, his face pressed to Merlin’s shoulder.

“I’m going to go, Merlin,” said Arthur. His voice sounded stiff. 

“Oh… are you sure you won’t have a cup of coffee or something? I owe you one. Or four.”

He gave him a small smile, already reaching for the door knob. Merlin almost tripped over his feet to get to him, to have the opportunity for a proper goodbye. “Arthur… thank you so much. You really…”

“It was nice to meet you,” he said. “Stay safe, OK? No more garden centres.” 

The door clicked shut. Merlin leaned his head against it and sighed.

“Ah.”

“Don’t you _ah_ me,” he mumbled into the wood.

Gwaine’s smugness was a palpable thing. He put his arm around Merlin’s shoulder and guided him to the sofa, pressing him down and pulling his shoes off. He tugged Mum’s heavy patchwork blanket off the back of the armchair, draped it over him, then pushed a mug of hot chocolate into his hands.

“I’m not six,” Merlin said, but he sighed into the drink anyway.

“No, you’re not. But you’ve got a crush, haven’t you?” He grinned, his eyes crinkling up and his scruffy beard stretching around his lips. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He rolled his eyes. “I haven’t got a crush.”

“Sure you haven’t,” he said, stretching the word out.

“I haven’t,” he snapped.

Gwaine was quiet for a moment. Then he pulled Merlin’s head onto his shoulder, wrapped his arms and legs around him and sighed into his hair. “Oh. That bad, huh?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nah. Just is what it is. I’d better get all my Merlin cuddles in while I can before Goldilocks comes and stakes his claim to you.”

“It’s not like that, Gwaine. He was only being kind.”

“If he hasn’t fallen for you, he’s an idiot. Look at you, you’re adorable.”

“And he’s a Greek god.”

Gwaine held Merlin’s cheeks, his face unusually serious. “You are absolutely the best person in the world, and if I had any interest in a romantic relationship whatsoever I’d be standing outside your door every day with bouquets of synthetic roses and a song to serenade. So don’t you go implying to _me_ that Princess out there is in any way better than you.”

Merlin smiled, a warm glow spreading through his chest. “Synthetic roses?”

“Top quality latex. No scents, no bees.”

“You’re my best Gwaine.”

“You’re my best Merlin. Now, drink your chocolate while I read this ‘how to look after Merlins’ brochure you got for me from the hospital.”

“I like to treat you.”

Gwaine grunted and side-eyed him. “Yeah. Thanks. Reading material for your dyslexic flatmate, you’re so kind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case nobody got the reference, the title is because Arthur is getting a teeny bit territorial over Merlin, or he thinks that Gwaine is being territorial. Love a bit of MerGwaine bromance ^_^ 
> 
> Next few chapters will switch to Arthur's POV, and I'd like to warn you all, while Merlin is a little ball of sweetness and rainbows, Arthur is a whirling vortex of issues and self-loathing. There's still a happy ending though! I promise!


	4. Where The History Comes From

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's POV and a few hints to his backstory. This started off as something like three separate chapters, but let's condense all Arthur's angst into one, shall we?!

Arthur did not slam the door behind him when he got home. It simply… slipped out of his hands. He threw his coat onto the rack, kicked off his boots and slouched into the kitchen to flick on the ketttle.

 _You know I love you, Merls._ Idiot, he thought. If you loved him, you’d keep him safe, not drag him into a garden centre where he could be _killed_. How could anyone do that to Merlin? He was so obviously someone who needed looking after, all gangly and clumsy, smile so bright it almost closed his eyes up. It was a wonder he managed to function at all.

It was a wonder Arthur had been able to function near him. He’d never met anyone who set his heart on fire quite like that, right from the moment he saw him smiling at a loon at the herb section. Someone he wanted to look at and look after and touch and care for and…

He threw the teabag into the sink violently. He was an idiot. Merlin was spoken for, even if he hadn’t figured it out himself. Gwaine was probably proposing to him right now. Sure, Merlin thought he'd been off flirting with other people at the garden centre, but Arthur understood relationships. He was shite at them, but he understood them in other people, and Gwaine’s welcome home was not exactly platonic.

And even if Merlin was single, it wouldn’t matter, would it? The voice in the back of Arthur’s head sounded like Morgana. And his tea tasted awful. He stomped off to the shower and was still in a foul mood by the time he went to bed.

Somehow his bad mood lasted well into the week. Percy, Mordred and Freya were used to him being brusque, but even they started to steer clear of him. Trouble was, the more conversations went silent as he approached, the more small groups dispersed when they saw him, the worse his mood got. By Thursday he’d taken himself off to his office, tempted to lock the door, just to give the poor bastards a break from him.

He pressed his fingers into his eye sockets. What was wrong with him? He’d found other guys attractive in the last few months, chatted with a few, even flirted with one or two. But he never expected it to go any further. Arthur Pendragon did not date. Not since… yeah. Best not even go down that rabbit hole of rampant regret. He was happy like this. This was best for everyone. He liked the quiet of his flat, he liked being able to decide what to do, where to go, what to eat, without having to think of anyone else’s opinions. He genuinely liked being alone. He was not lonely. This was the best thing.

So why could he not stop thinking of wild black hair and deep blue eyes, plump lips teasing him and calling him… what word had he used? Clotpole, or something equally ridiculous. Arthur caught himself smiling and groaned into his hands.

He didn’t think he’d ever been so scared as when Merlin had gone into the second anaphylactic shock in the ambulance. It had been so quiet. He’d grabbed Arthur’s hand tight and looked at him, terrified and pleading and trusting _him_ to help. And then his eyes had rolled back into his head for a moment. Arthur nearly cried thinking about it right there and then, because he didn’t even know this guy’s last name, but he’d felt a vast well of grief open up beneath his feet at that moment. And then the paramedics had given him a second shot of adrenaline and the world beneath him had stopped moving, but was drastically different, knocked to one side, and he didn’t know what he could do to put it right again.

People did not fall in… no, he wasn’t even going to say it. It was that stupid. He couldn’t believe he was even entertaining such a pathetic, cliche thought.

There was a tap at the door, and Arthur sat up straight, almost relieved to be saved from his own stupidity. “Yes?”

Percival poked his head around the door. “Hey, boss, there’s a guy at the counter who wants to talk to you.” He sounded apologetic and awkward, and like he’d rather be anywhere else. Arthur swallowed his first reaction, which was to ask what he’d done to piss off a customer already, and pushed himself to his feet with a nod.

He regretted it when he got to the counter. In fact, he regretted everything that could conceivably be involved in leading up to this point, where he was forced to exercise every customer service muscle he owned to speak to Merlin’s flat mate (and probably by-now-boyfriend) Gwaine.

The scruffy man looked up with a grin that would have made a pirate blush. “Hello, Goldielocks,” he said.

Arthur set his jaw. “How can I help you, sir?”

Gwaine laughed. He rubbed his hands together, like some sort of storybook villain. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How much do you hate me? Go on. Tell me, I’m desperate to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is there a problem?”

Gwaine shook his head. “Oh, no. Well, yeah, but that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Gwaine, matchmaker, solver of problems. Do you want to go on a date with Merlin?”

Arthur blinked. He blinked some more. He was pretty sure, in fact, that he was doing the equivalent of rebooting his entire system after a crash. “I… what?”

Gwaine leaned his elbows on the counter and looked up at Arthur, his eyes suddenly darker and deeper. Arthur wondered for a moment if he was hypnotising him. “I said, do you want to date Merlin?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” He asked, his voice dropping to a more private tone. “Does Merlin know you’re here?”

Gwaine smirked. “Nope.”

Heat flared through his chest and he wanted to burn this man for even considering such hateful behaviour towards someone like Merlin. “How dare you? How could you treat him like that? You think that’s what he wants, do you? You think Merlin wants his boyfriend to pass him around random people so you can, what? Get some kick out of it? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Gwaine raised his eyebrows and looked at him flatly. “Are you done?”

“Not even nearly,” he snarled. “Look, if you don’t appreciate him for himself, just leave him alone, don’t do… this to him. Just…” he clenched his fists at his side. He wanted to help, wanted to… to save Merlin again, if it came to it. But this wasn’t a medical thing, it wasn’t something a stranger could butt in on. He clenched his fingers on the edge of the desk. “Get out.”

“You done _now?”_

“Yes. Yes, I am done now, now get out!”

“Merlin’s not my boyfriend.”

Arthur snapped his head up. He thought he might be doing that blinking thing again, only this time his stomach was also sinking through into the bowels of the earth and hiding in humiliation. “You’re…”

“His flatmate. His best mate.” He smirked. “His Gwaine. But not his boyfriend. I see where you might have got that impression, of course, we’re close, and I love him to bits. Just… not like that. When I asked if you wanted to date him, I meant by yourself.” Then he frowned, and tapped his nails on the counter. “Also, Mr Judgemental, some people _do_ like that sort of thing. Bringing another person into a relationship. Just so you know.”

“Yeah, but does Merlin?” he answered on autopilot.

Gwaine winked. “No, he does not. Good call.” He tilted his head onto one side, and Arthur felt, terrifyingly, like he was being analysed. “You like him, don’t you? Quite a lot. I was pretty sure when I saw how arsey you were with me on Saturday, but that little speech back there…” he patted his chest. “Touched my heart, mate.”

Arthur closed his eyes and hoped the flames in his cheeks would actually burn him up into an innocuous pile of ash that was slightly more likely to keep its mouth shut. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“No harm done,” Gwaine shrugged. “I was enjoying it, to be honest, you’re very passionate, aren’t you? Very protective of our Merlin.”

Arthur hunched over and covered his face with his hands. 

“Here’s Merlin’s number,” Gwaine said, leaning forward and slipping a card into Arthur’s shirt pocket. “He’s been moping about, drawing flowers, and, for some reason, knights in shining armour. Something needed to be done. Oh, and Arthur?” He trailed off, bit his lip, then shook his head. “Nah. You know what, he’s a big boy. You’ve got to let people find their own way, right?”

Arthur’s hand came up to his breast pocket, feeling the outline of the card through the thick flannel, and nodded. He was still blinking.

***

The card was thick and slightly glossy, good quality. The ink was just heavy enough that he could feel it under his fingers when he brushed them over the writing. Merlin Emrys, graphic designer, and a mobile number. Arthur thought he might have memorised them by touch by now.

It was Saturday. He hadn’t called Merlin. He was still fighting with the voices in his head, and to be honest, the fact that he was doing that suggested that he wasn’t fit to go on a date with anyone, let alone someone as sweet and kind and… and _precious_ as Merlin. 

Arthur didn’t think Merlin was a glass figurine or a delicate flower. Well. Not much, anyway. But he did think he deserved the absolute best. He wasn’t sure at what point he’d decided this. He was still shying away from words like ‘first’ and ‘sight’, and he was actually considering drinking his way to the bottom of some sort of bottle and giving himself very specific brain damage. Just enough to forget about any four letter words that might imply any sort of affection.

Because Arthur was not the best thing for Merlin. He wasn’t the best thing for anyone. If he was a good person, he’d tear that card up into tiny pieces and take himself far away. If there was one person he didn’t want to hurt, it was Merlin.

“Oh, good grief, are you wallowing again, Brother?”

Arthur groaned and dropped his head back on the sofa. “Why do you have my fucking key, you harpy?”

Morgana smirked and dropped into an armchair, throwing her feet over the arm and pulling her heels off. “So I can drop in on you whenever I like, obviously.”

“You enjoy tormenting me that much, do you?”

“Shut up, you love it.”

He really didn’t. But he handed over the bottle of rum anyway and she tipped some into her can of coke before knocking back a slug. “So, how goes it? What are you watching?”

“Dress to Kill,” he mumbled. “It’s a stand up comedian.”

“Oh, is that Eddie Izzard?” She grinned. “Love him. ‘I was saving myself for a woman made of breasts’!”

“You haven’t saved yourself for anything,” he snarked.

“Ooh, well, aren’t we bitchy today. What’s his name?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nobody’s ever in this bad of a mood unless sex is involved somewhere,” she said. She closed her eyes as she tipped her rum and coke back. Arthur felt a stab of pain through him, but he schooled his face. He was good at that when it came to Morgana.

“Merlin,” he said, when she turned those pale green eyes on him again. “His name’s Merlin.”

“What’s he done to make you so miserable? Do I need to go beat someone up for my little brother again?” Her red lips quirked up into a slightly cruel smirk.

“He hasn’t done anything,” Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t think I should ring him.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Have you been on a date yet?”

He shook his head. 

“Have you fucked?”

He glared at her, and tried not to blush.

“What? Oh, Arthur, really, stop being such a prude. It’s completely normal, we’re all adults.”

Arthur gritted his teeth and looked back at the card. He threw it onto the table, and it slipped off the end, tumbling upside down onto the carpet. 

“Arthur,” she said, and something in her voice made him look up. It was soft, almost gentle. “Arthur, is this about Cenred?”

A shudder ran through his spine and he turned his head. He concentrated on building a wall in his mind. Brick by brick, the roughness of the blocks, the slick scrape of the trowel in cement, the sun beating on his back. One gulp of rum, and he could trust himself to look up at her again.

She touched his arm, hand soft against his skin. “Look, I know he was a bastard. He said some really awful things, Arthur, really cruel. But just because _he_ said you were boring in bed, doesn’t mean that’s true. Different people have different tastes. You’ve got to get back on the horse. It’s been almost a year! You’re going to get a complex about sex or something, to be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t already.” She leaned over and picked up the card, slipped it back into his hand. “Look, it doesn’t have to be perfect every time. I mean, you know it takes time to find out what the other person likes, don’t put so much pressure on yourself! So Cenred didn’t like the same things you did? This guy might. But you’ll never find out if you don’t try.”

Arthur stared at the card in his hand, feeling cold despair running through his chest. Because how could he try, when he wasn’t sure what he liked himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgana... genuinely does _mean_ well... She just doesn't see how much what she does and says upsets Arthur, because he's actually pretty good at hiding his feelings. ~~I am not projecting how dare you?~~


	5. Did I Leave The Gas On?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RETURN OF THE FLUFF!

“Arthur! Hey!”

Arthur turned, his blood doing this weird thing where it felt half tingly and warm, and half cold panic. “Merlin - hi!”

Merlin smiled at him, his fingers tight around his bag strap. His smile was so wide it was a wonder he could see at all. Arthur wanted to wrap his arms around him and protect him and make sure that smile stayed on his face forever. “Sorry,” said Merlin, his cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t mean to yell your name across the street, I just…” He ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “Uh. I guess I never expected to see you again. What with avoiding garden centres like the plague.”

“I do exist outside of work, _Mer_ lin,” he smirked.

“Prat,” said Merlin, slapping him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. He blushed again and Arthur felt a sweet ache under his rib cage. “I, um… I never said thank you properly.” He glanced up at Arthur through thick black lashes. “For saving my life.”

“Have dinner with me?” he blurted. And then panicked. The words weren’t physical things, he couldn’t grab them out of the air and cram them back into his own mouth. “Uh… on behalf of… of the garden centre. No hard feelings. You know?”

Merlin’s smile brightened for a moment, then dimmed as Arthur screwed everything up again. “Oh. You… you really don’t have to, I don’t… I should know better. It’s not your fault.”

Arthur rubbed his face. “No, shit. This is all coming out wrong.” He took a deep breath. “I’d like to take you to dinner. As me. If… would you like…”

“Yes!” Merlin laughed out a breath. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great! Uh… Saturday? What time?”

Merlin shrugged, his fingers twisting around the bag strap. “Any time’s good. Seven? Or, I mean, eight’s fine too - or any time you like, really.”

Arthur couldn’t hold his smile back any more. There was a rushing in every vein, a cheer to rival the premiership cup match at Wembley. It didn’t matter how much he’d fucked up every relationship he’d ever had in the past, because he was riding high now. “Can I come by your flat at seven and pick you up? To walk you into town… or I could meet you there?”

Merlin’s smile was blinding. “I’d like that. You picking me up, I mean. If... if you want.”

"Yes," he said, his voice distorted by the vigorous nodding. "I do. I will. I mean... I'll see you there."

***

His heart was beating so hard he thought Merlin could probably hear it before he even knocked on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Gwaine opened the door and smirked at him, and Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Hey there, Princess. At last.”

“I’m not late,” he said indignantly, checking his watch.

“Maybe not by the clock, but the calendar’s been waiting around,” he replied, and sauntered back into the room. “Hurt Merlin and I’ll hurt you worse, blah blah blah, you know the deal.”

“Shut up, Gwaine,” said Merlin, appearing from one of the bedroom doors and slapping Gwaine on the stomach with the back of his hand. “Arthur. Hi.”

Arthur felt like all the air had been sucked out of the flat. Merlin’s smile was becoming hazardous to his health, but coupled with the rest of him tonight…. He had a deep blue button-down shirt, fitted perfectly to his slim chest, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, and a pair of black skinny jeans that made his legs look like they went on forever. He was vaguely aware his eyes were travelling from the untameable black hair to the denim snug around his ankles, and for a moment he didn’t think he’d ever be able to breathe again.

“Told you that was a good shirt,” said Gwaine. 

Arthur blushed so hard he nearly set his hair on fire. “Uh. Shall we go?”

Merlin bit his lip and followed him, slinging a beaten up leather jacket off the hook and allowing Arthur to concentrate again. Arthur glanced up at his smile. Maybe things would work out this time.

They were quiet all down the stairs. They were quiet across the street, and along the alley to the main road. They were quiet walking through the marketplace, and every step they took made Arthur’s heart beat faster and faster, the pleasure turning into anxiety, and…

“Wait.” He stopped, his heart in his throat. He didn’t know if Merlin was going to get it. Was it too obscure, the one he’d chosen? “Did I leave the gas on?” Merlin stopped too, blinking, and Arthur caught his eye. “No, I’m a fucking squirrel.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open. “Did you… did you just quote Eddie Izzard?”

A smile crept across Arthur’s face. He nodded. “I thought I’d better watch a few of his shows so I could understand Merlin-speak.”

Merlin stared at him with stars in his eyes. Then he took one step. His fingertips rested lightly on Arthur’s cheekbone and he kissed him, soft and sweet. Arthur gasped.

“Shit! I mean… I’m sorry… I should have… uh, can I…”

Arthur caught him at his hips, pulling him back. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Merlin’s fingers went through his hair and he pulled him in, his lips soft and plump on Arthurs, opening to the touch. Arthur’s fingers tightened on his slim waist, and he wanted to pull him closer, press the two of them together so tight that nothing could come between them. His tongue curled around Merlin’s, his breath shaky on his cheek, and Merlin was tugging his hair and sending sparks of electricity down his spine. He slipped one hand up to his neck, his thumb caressing his sharp jaw, his earlobe, those cheekbones to die for—

“Woohoo! Yeah, don’t mind us boys!” 

Merlin jumped, and they turned to the small group of girls in tight tops and mini skirts. They chorused complaints. “Don’t stop, that was hot as fuck! Get it _on_!”

Merlin laughed and Arthur rolled his eyes, but he didn’t mind breaking the kiss so much. Because Merlin’s fingers were clutched in the front of his shirt, and his face was pressed against Arthur’s neck. He could feel his breath on his collarbone, and there was a pulsing warmth flooding through his body, every inch of his skin focused on where Merlin was, what he was doing, how the waistband of his jeans felt under Arthur’s fingertips, how soft that thick hair was against his jaw.

The girls quit grumbling and wandered on, way too drunk for so early in the evening. “You OK?” Arthur asked, allowing his fingers to stroke down Merlin’s back. The leather jacket was soft and cool, and thin enough that he could feel the outline of his shoulder blade through it.

“I couldn’t be better. Literally nothing could make me better,” Merlin grinned, looking up at Arthur. “I mean… assuming we can do that again?”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathed, and kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAYYY!
> 
> Man I've been WAITING for this chapter since I started writing this fic, mostly because the inappropriate Eddie Izzard quoting plus this whole 'Arthur watches Izzard just so he can quote it to Merlin' thing was the first concept I ever had for this fic, like a year lol! In fact, I had this idea the same night I had the idea for Dance With Me, so...
> 
> Ahem. Also, the angst will return next chapter ;)


	6. Cake or Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward a few weeks. Merlin is deliriously happy with Arthur, and the feeling is definitely mutual. But to Arthur, something this perfect can't possibly last... can it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be a little triggery for consent issues - nothing non-con happens at all, but Arthur THINKS it's going to, and that stresses him out a lot, of course. To avoid spoilers, please skip to the end notes and I'll list out everything that happens?

Merlin pressed himself close to his boyfriend’s chest and smiled. There was something inane on the telly, they’d had Thai green curry for dinner, and his feet were covered with a blanket. He was possibly more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life. Arthur made the best pillow.

They’d been dating for over a month now, and Merlin couldn’t stop smiling. Gwaine kept pinching his cheeks and telling him it was adorable. But even his best friend patronising him couldn’t ruin his stellar mood.

The first few minutes of their first date was the only time he’d felt awkward around Arthur. Since then it had all been banter and sarcasm and serious discussions about serious things like politics. Or serious discussions about stupid things like the best herbs to put with chicken or the correct pronunciation of gif. It was like he’d got everything he’d ever fantasised about. Part of him wondered if he should be waiting for the other shoe to fall, like this was too perfect. Instead he burrowed his face into Arthur’s jumper and smiled so that his cheeks hurt.

Arthur chuckled and stroked through Merlin’s hair. Merlin thought he might turn into butter and melt, it felt so good. He turned his face to kiss Arthur on the chest. 

“All right, you two canoodlers?” Gwaine called, tossing his keys onto the table. “This is Elena. Elena, that’s my flatmate Merlin, and his boyfriend Arthur.”

Merlin opened one eye and waved at the girl with acres of fluffy blonde hair. “Hiya.”

“Hi,” she grinned, waved back, and tripped over the shoes in the hallway. Gwaine caught her. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Who am I to complain when a beautiful woman falls into my arms?”

She snorted loudly and slapped him. “Yeah, yeah, you just want me to fall into your bed.”

“I do, you’re right,” he grinned, and kissed her. 

Merlin shook his head and closed his eyes again. Gwaine’s kisses usually turned into hands up shirts and - yep, there it was. Moaning already. He chuckled to himself and put his hand over Arthur’s eyes without looking. “You have a room, Gwaine.”

“I do,” he said, pulling back with a pop noise - was he actually sucking her face off? “I also have half of this room.”

“Dick,” he grinned.

“Absolutely.”

He went back to snogging Elena. Merlin turned and snuggled against Arthur’s chest again. He was way too comfortable to care. He might actually end up sleeping on the sofa, it hadn’t been the first time he’d fallen asleep surrounded by Arthur’s warmth and smell.

But Arthur was tense tonight, his muscles clenched up and slightly trembling under his cheek. As the door to Gwaine’s room clicked shut, Merlin frowned up at him. He had his jaw tightly bunched, his hand clenched. He was opening his mouth to ask if everything was OK when Arthur cleared his throat. “Merlin. Do you want…” He cleared his throat again. “Do you want to go to bed too?’

Huh? Oh.

_Oh._

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up. Did he? He did a mental shrug. He could be convinced. He smiled up at Arthur’s rigid face. Was that what he was nervous about? 

Well, it had been over a month since they’d got together. Merlin knew he couldn’t judge most people by Gwaine’s standards, but he figured that was a pretty long time. “Yeah,” he said softly. “OK. If you want.” He smiled and stroked Arthur’s cheek.

Arthur nodded woodenly. He still hadn’t relaxed. He was blinking an awful lot, still vibrating almost out of his skin. Merlin stood and held out his hand, kissing his palm and tugging him into his bedroom.

Merlin liked sex. He also liked cuddling, and kissing, and laughing so hard his stomach hurt. He liked cooking and drawing and touching Arthur’s skin, feeling where the calluses ended and the smooth back of his hand began, and then joined into the thicker, hairy skin of his forearms. If he had to list his favourite things to do, sex wouldn’t even cross his mind. But it was lovely when it went well, and the other three boys he’d been out with had all enjoyed it. So Merlin was happy to join in. And he loved watching that bliss spread across their faces because of something he was doing.

Arthur… well, he wasn’t exactly blissed out. Merlin cupped his cheek in one hand and kissed him, on the bottom lip, then the top. Arthur sighed into the kiss, his arms going around Merlin’s back and pulling him close. Merlin smiled, deepening the kiss, stroking his hands down Arthur’s chest, brushing over the nipples through his thin shirt.

Arthur jumped like he’d been stung. “Sorry. S- sorry. I’m OK.” 

He clenched his jaw, then pulled Merlin tight to him, kissing him harder, almost violently. Merlin flinched. “Ow! Fuck!” He sucked his lip, and laughed, because Arthur had bloody bitten him! “You cannibal.”

He glanced up. Arthur’s golden skin had gone a sickly white, his eyes wide and horrified. “Shit. Oh, God, Merlin, I’m so sorry. Fucking _hell.”_

“Hey, it’s OK,” laughed Merlin. “I’m not really into that, though.” He shrugged and winked. “Sorry.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders so tense he must have been giving himself a blinding headache. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“Are you OK?” Merlin asked, stepping forward to touch Arthur’s cheek.

He _flinched_ away from him.

Merlin stared at Arthur in horror. Arthur opened his eyes wide, stuttering “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“What? Sweetheart, what are you sorry for? I don’t…”

“I’ll be better, I swear. Merlin….” He grabbed both Merlin’s hands in his own, his wild eyes holding his gaze frantically, like he was terrified Merlin was going to run away. “I’ll get better, I swear, I can do better.”

“Arthur, what the hell are you talking about? Better at what?”

“At… at sex! I know I can be better, I swear, I’ll… I’ll do anything, just please… tell me what you want? I can do anything, I swear.”

“Arthur!”

He _whimpered_. Merlin felt his heart break, because Arthur was so strong, so determined to be perfect and this… whatever this was, made him flinch like an ill-treated puppy. “Can I hug you?”

Arthur broke his gaze, looking down and to the side, and nodded. His shoulders were up around his ears, he was so tense, and he felt small as Merlin wrapped his arms around him. He pulled him to sit down on the side of the bed and his arms crept around Merlin’s waist. His face, pressed against his shoulder, was feeling suspiciously damp. Merlin rocked and hushed, stroking his back as he tried to be strong for him.

“I’m so sorry,” whispered Arthur, his face still pressed to his shirt.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Merlin said, trying to put all his conviction into his words.

“I will though,” he said, his voice small and shaky. “I always do. I always fuck it up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t… I’m boring. I don’t think…”

“What? Boring? You’re not—“

“In bed, Merlin! I’m… the other guys. My other relationships. That’s why they end, because I can’t… I can’t seem to do it right.”

Merlin was quiet for a moment. “What do you mean, you can’t do it right?” Arthur shrugged, dejected. “Arthur…” He hesitated. He didn’t want to project anything on him. “Arthur, what do you enjoy? In bed, I mean?”

Arthur made a sound that could have been a swallowed sob. Merlin squeezed him tighter and felt his heart break a little more. “I don’t know!”

“Do you ever enjoy it? Has there ever been…”

“I come, if that’s what you mean.”

Merlin laughed. “Not necessarily.” He sighed. “Arthur, you know it’s OK to not like sex, right?”

He snorted. “Sure, if you’re doing it wrong.”

Merlin shook his head. “No. Or… well, maybe for some people. But some people just… don’t like it at all.” He stroked Arthur’s hair and kissed his head. “Like me, for example. I’m grey-A, or demisexual, I’m not sure which term I prefer. For me, it means I can take it or leave it. I’d happily spend every day kissing you and touching you and cuddling up on the sofa…. I don’t mind sex, but it’s no better than anything else we’ve already done. It’s not like Gwaine - for him I think it’s the best thing you can do with a certain type of relationship.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Gwaine really likes sex. But… maybe you really, really don’t?”

Arthur was silent, and for a moment Merlin thought he was thinking it through. Maybe he’d pop up with a smile and say ‘that makes perfect sense, Merlin! Let’s just snuggle up and not worry about it!’

Instead, his shoulders started to shake. He could tell he was trying so hard to hold it back, make it silent, make it stop, but Merlin could hear the gasps and the sobs now. “Oh, love...” He pressed his face into Arthur’s hair and held him, anchoring him through the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK possible content warnings for those who skipped here to check them! Essentially Arthur is asexual and hasn't realised it yet. He thinks there's just something 'wrong' with him and he tries to force himself to have sex with Merlin (who's grey-ace, and treats sex as 'well, I'm not fussed either way, but if it makes you happy let's go for it' type thing). Arthur doesn't know this - he probably doesn't even know what asexuality IS - and he worries that Merlin will leave him if the sex isn't good enough, because that's what's happened with all his other relationships. Thankfully Merlin realises something's not right within the first couple of kisses and they have a long talk about it, plus lots of cuddles and tears.
> 
> Personally, I fluctuate wildly in my attitude to sex, but I identify as demi. When I'm feeling healthy, I'm like Merlin, and I really enjoy sex some days, or just really am not bothered others. When I'm triggered on certain things, I'm more like Arthur and get seriously twisted up about it. Loads of different people who identify as demi or grey-A or ace feel completely differently about sex to how I do, so please don't consider this or any other fic a manual for identifying yourself. Essentially if you decide you're ace, then you are. If you don't decide anything, it's nobody else's business, you do you. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk ;)
> 
> The final chapter will be very short, just a hopeful and loving happy ending!


	7. The Words Of Dostoyevsky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a very short, sweet ending, because these boys deserve all the sweetness in the world

Arthur drifted half way between awake and asleep, in such a state of bliss he never wanted to move. He was warm, covered with a duvet way thicker than his own, with a thin, bony shoulder under his ear. OK, that bit wasn’t as comfortable as his pillow…

Arthur’s eyes snapped open as he remembered where he was, and what had happened the night before. As he tensed, Merlin moved, craning his neck to look down at him. “Morning,” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep.

Arthur sat up, stalling, rubbing his eyes and trying not to panic. He’d made such a fool of himself last night! Merlin must be disgusted with him, it was only a matter of time. “I’m sorry for last night.”

Merlin sat up and slipped his hands around his waist, kissing him on the shoulder and up his neck. “Please don’t be?”

Arthur pressed his forehead into his hands. “I made a fool of myself.”

“Oh, what, am I the only person allowed to do that?”

He frowned and turned to Merlin. His hair distracted him for a moment, even wilder than usual, half of it sticking straight up into the air. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He shook himself to focus. “You don’t make a fool of yourself.”

Merlin looked at him, a slight smile on his face.

“OK,” he chuckled. “But it’s… endearing when you do it.”

Merlin laughed and nudged his nose into Arthur’s cheek. “You don’t have to always be perfect, you know.”

He snorted. “I know I’m nowhere near perfect.”

He shrugged. “OK. Well, you’re perfect for me.” He hooked his chin over Arthur’s shoulder, and Arthur resisted the urge to lean into him. “You do remember the whole of our conversation last night, don’t you? Do you think you’re asexual?”

“I’m not a microbe, _Mer_ lin.”

He nudged him. “Be serious, Clotpole. Do you think you could happily go your whole life never having sex?”

Something fluttered in his chest like a downed moth. Arthur dug his fingernails into his palms. “I’m… I’m sure I could have sex. I’m not a virgin, I can get better at it.”

“You’re not listening,” he said gently. “You’re not remembering. Arthur, that’s fine by me. Remember? I’m ace too. Just… sounds like you’ve had a really bad experience with your exes. I’ve only ever been out with lovely guys who understood I don't have the same urges as them.” He shrugged. “We worked it out. I want to work it out with you.”

Arthur felt a prickling behind his eyes. It felt like a tiny, terrified hope. “Are you sure?” He forced himself to ask. “I… look, I don’t want to put myself through this if you don’t think it’s going to work out in the… in the long run.”

Merlin went still for a moment, and panic flooded Arthur’s veins. Then he squirmed nearer, wrapping his arms tight around Arthur’s waist. “I love you,” he whispered. “Arthur, I love you. I can’t guarantee anything, no-one can. But…” he gulped and pressed his face into Arthur’s neck. “I want to work on the long run with you.”

Something went supernova in Arthur’s chest. His smile was impossible to contain. He turned in Merlin’s grip and tackled him down onto the bed. “I love you too, idiot.”

Merlin laughed, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Court, thank you SO MUCH for indulging my silly idea! I'm so invested in their happiness now lol! This is my last Fandom Trumps Hate 2018 fic, and I've had such a wonderful time ^_^ What awesome organisers! I hope you all enjoyed my Merthur fluff - I really appreciate everyone's comments and kudos, you guys rock - thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on Tumblr if you like! I'm [Gold-From-Straw](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gold-from-straw)
> 
> RESOURCES ON ANAPHYLAXIS:
> 
> [anaphylaxis.org.uk](https://www.anaphylaxis.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Anaphylaxis-2015-version-8-with-links-in-full-1.pdf)
> 
>  
> 
> [insectstings.co.uk](https://www.insectstings.co.uk/)


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